Rust Creek is the titular location where the film is set. During Thanksgiving weekend, Sawyer, a college student, prepares to go to a big job interview in DC, but she ends up in the wrong place at the wrong time now she must fight to survive. If the premise sounds interesting, do not watch the preview, which gives away crucial plot twists that occur throughout the film. Without those spoilers, it is a decently paced film that goes in a couple of unexpected directions.
Rust Creek’s premise exploits our regional and class prejudices in setting the tone then gradually course corrects to tease out a more textured, subversive text on our assumptions about people based on appearances and status. Because I did see the preview, I correctly anticipated those moments. I correctly guessed one plot twist not teased in the preview because I watch a lot of movies and do not share certain assumptions that the filmmakers are hoping that the viewer will rely on because I have my own regional cultural prejudices that counteract those assumptions.
Even though Rust Creek is a survivalist drama thriller, in many ways, it is like a cautionary fairy tale that one would read to children instead of lecturing them about going into the woods. Sawyer gets a little taste of mortality to help her value what is really important in life, which is not achievements, but her family and slowing down to appreciate life. I enjoyed that the lesson was not rooted in what a woman should do. There is no romantic subplot. Sawyer is a daughter, a friend and a college student, but she is not defined by her relationship with a significant other.
Sawyer is similar to the heroine of a fairy tale because in many ways, by trying to survive, she unintentionally lifts a curse from the Rust Creek region, but it is a quotidian curse that casts a universal pall. It is not rooted in the supernatural or magic, but long term relationship and power dynamics that seem eternal and indomitable yet can be razed if an outsider unfamiliar with the rules rejects the norm and resets the basic morality of the area. I actually really enjoyed the fact that Sawyer’s presence explicitly interrupts what would be the dominant plot in a different genre, but here it is simply a backdrop that we never fully explore.
The role of race and religion is very understated, but is characteristic of this Presidon’t era. Most of the characters are white, but a black character depicts the voice of official authority as a member of the State Police. He is superficially respected, but an annoyance to the region and is actually ignorant of how endemic the criminal element is. He is basically ineffective because of his assumptions about law and order and shared values with the locals. Is he an Obama figure who thinks too highly of those who surround him? A hardworking, earnest Deputy has a name that is usually Jewish in a region that would probably make him a minority. There is discussion of another minority, but this person is only discussed as a criminal element, an unsolved mystery, a low priority. After 2016, a lot of people who probably thought of themselves as white discovered a painful reality that they could be fired from whiteness if they did not belong to the right religion, national origin, gender or class. Emphasis on status and value simply based on hierarchy, not merit, experience or character, the idea of objective truth being an anathema, is the nightmare fuel that Rust Creek runs on. Only a missing white woman could reveal the ineffectiveness of institutions when they do not function as intended because it is one of the few crimes that captures the imagination even if the protagonist does not resemble the person whom we expect to go missing. (Side note: if this movie were set on a college campus, and she were running from wannabe rapists who were fellow college students, there would be far less concern, but people still care about missing white women. Shudder—the world is a mess.)
Jen McGowan directed Rust Creek, and while I do not deliberately follow her work, I have seen one of her films before, Kelly & Cal, which I was not into, but it does indicate that she is interested in exploring friendships that are superficially unexpected to the outside world. I preferred her approach to those counterintuitive pairings in this film than Kelly & Cal. I found out after watching this film that it was inspired in part by Stu Pollard’s life—he is one of the writers, which means that the protagonist was originally a man. It is definitely a more interesting story than if the protagonist was a man because Sawyer’s reactions are smart and decisive, but because of her physical disadvantages, she can still be in jeopardy and more vulnerable than a young male college student. So we can still root for her because she kicks ass, but worry about her because it may not make a difference. Also I am not sure if a young man in jeopardy elicits the same sympathy that a young woman would. There could be some concern that the young man is not a victim, but a perpetrator or at least partially culpable.
Instead of Chekhov’s gun, we have Chekhov’s kitchen….you will know what I mean if you decide to watch Rust Creek. At times, this section of the film felt a bit meandering, and I did not entirely get the point of it until another writer, Julie Lipson, explained the significance of this section as the past and the future meeting and forming a way to live in the present similar to a play devoted to the Lord’s Prayer. In retrospect, it is quite beautiful, but I think that area though innately powerful, did not quite convey the intended message. I did enjoy that there was never a prose dump to explain the backstory, but eagle eyed viewers could glean it from close observation of the surroundings and accessories. It also explains another interesting quality of this film. Sawyer is the only woman. We never hear or see another one. They are relegated to the margins. Men discuss them and interact with them, but it is no country for women. They do not hold power. They do not have a voice. They basically do not exist. Sawyer’s presence has a disruptive effect because she is not supposed to be there, and the entire environment is inhospitable to her and ultimately humanity as a result. A world can literally not exist without women, but her appearance resurrects a land despoiled of its natural balance. There is an implicit idea that the area was already destroyed by corporate interests and now local commercial interests.
Rust Creek suggests that while Sawyer is unrelenting in her desire to survive, the last shot has a bittersweet impact. She is the opposite of Lot’s wife—vigilant against a still present danger, never looking backwards, rejecting the veneer of rescue. She got burned and is oblivious to the impact of her actions. There is no happy ending regardless of whether or not she makes it out of the woods.